All the heat in Bertie’s face washed away, and when she turned to me, she was ice cold, one eyebrow raised. “Delaney Reed. It’s so lovely to see you. I have sidewalks that need to be swept.”
“I’d love to help out—no, don’t give me that look, I really would—but I have to put out other fires today. Thank you for getting the word out last night.”
She glanced at her clipboard, then glared at the team of women sorting through drapery, as if that look alone could make them work faster. “I assume you reached the others who shy from modern technology?”
“We did.”
“And the other issue?” She checked something off her list, then tapped the pen, looking at me expectantly.
I lowered my voice. “We still don’t know where or who the ghoul is. We’re working on it. Might have a lead on the god weapon thing. Have you heard of the spell book of the gods?”
“That was lost years ago.”
“And found and lost again. I know. There’s a missing page.”
“I…” She narrowed her eyes, as if she were trying to decide if I was lying.
“That’s what Crow told me. He said his spell was on that page.”
She pursed her lips like she’d just chewed through the center of a rotten lemon. “Of course it washisspell.”
“You don’t know anything about the page, do you?”
She gave a short shake of her head.
“Crow thinks a person or demon used it to break into the gods’ realms.”
“While I rarely care to agree with gods, and that god in particular, it would explain how the seemingly impossible has been made possible.”
“If you could keep your eye out for any sign of it, that would be really helpful.”
She nodded. “Yes, yes. If I see it, I’ll contact you. The ghoul is not what I was asking about.”
I rolled the current mess of problems through my mind and came up blank.
“Have you spoken with Ryder?” she asked.
Oh. Yikes. “Um…I haven’t had a chance. The, um, Vivian Dunn came into town. He’s been with her.”
“All this time?”
“Mostly?”
She sighed. “Delaney, it isn’t as if I ask you to do much…”
“Every festival, every fundraiser, every clean-up crew,” I counted on raised fingers. She ignored me just like she always did and kept talking.
“…but I am low on performers this year and his participation is vital.”
“…crowd control, lost and found, that rhubarb judging…”
“If this is any indication of the level of dedication you and others are willing to offer our town then I am concerned who I may have to draft into the theater production we will be putting on in August. Frankly, it’s becoming an embarrassment to think our people are so uninterested in the community around them.”
She was just complaining. Bertie did that a lot. But there was something more to it this time. Almost as if she were actually worried that one of her events would not turn out as awesome as they always did.
Well, except for that first rodeo. That had been a disaster.
It was a strange idea that maybe Bertie, flawless, unflagging, unflappable Bertie might be feeling a little insecure. It was a strange idea that maybe she needed a little encouragement.
